Second Chance
by reeby10
Summary: ON HIATUS. Three years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, Voldemort has been revived. He feels regret for his past, but is there anyone who will give him a second chance? TRHP. Slash. Darkish. Rated T for now .
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Do not own, however much I would like to.

**Warning:** nothing for this chapter, just kind of dark… eventual Tom/Harry smexing

**A/N:** Recently I've gotten really obsessed with Tom/Harry… I'm slowly working my way through all the fics up here, but I thought I'd contribute a bit of my own. This is probably the longest thing I've written in quite awhile and I really enjoyed writing it, so enjoy!! :D

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"And with two clockwise stirs and the blood of a newt it will be finished," a voice muttered, drifting through the fog. A gust of wind and the fog parted to show a figure in a long black cloak hunched over a huge steaming cauldron under which was a blazing purple fire. Tombstones surrounded the man and cauldron, obviously a cemetery.

Humming a menacing sounding song, the figure stirred twice with a long wooden rod then dropped it to the ground. From its flowing robes the figure withdrew a small vial of dark liquid. The vial was carefully tipped, making the contents spill into the cauldron with a hiss of steam. The liquid inside the cauldron began to bubble.

Suddenly, a bright white filled the cemetery making the man turn, hiding his face lest he be blinded. As the light faded, the figure looked back to the cauldron, gasped, and stepped back.

Inside the cauldron was no longer some noxious liquid, but a tall, wholly naked man. The man was thin with skin as pale as alabaster, glowing red eyes, and shoulder length hair black as a ravens wing. He was, in a word, beautiful.

For several seconds the two merely stared at each other, then with a strangled cry of happiness, the robed figure knelt, head pressed to the ground. "My lord, I am so… so happy!" the kneeling man said, his voice greatly muffled.

The other man blinked scarlet eyes then spoke, his voice hoarse and crackling as if from disuse, "Where are we? And how did I get here?"

Glancing up, the robed figure quickly averted his eyes in respect. "My lord, we are in the cemetery of Little Hangleton. I found a spell to bring you back, so you can now finish your work!" he exclaimed, clearly delighted.

This proclamation was met by another blink of the glowing scarlet eyes. As the silence stretched on, the figure on the ground shifted, obviously made nervous by the standing man's gaze. "Give me something to wear," the naked man suddenly demanded.

The cloaked figure scurried to comply, fumbling with a folded black robe a few feet away. Trembling, he handed the robe of then held out a wand. "And… and your wand, my lord," he said, flinching as pale fingers closed around the handle.

The black-haired man turned the wand in his hand, seeming to admire it, then moved his gaze back to the man huddled on the ground. "Why did you bring me back?" he asked, his voice betraying to emotion.

The other man looked up sharply. "What do you mean, my lord? So you could finish your noble work! These past three years-" He fell silent as the pale man held up a long-fingered hand.

"My noble work?" he muttered, clearly to himself. "What rubbish. It would have been better if I had stayed dead…" He looked down at the man on the ground who looked back at him in clear confusion. His gaze hardened. "Tell me everything that has happened since I have been… gone," he ordered, his voice dangerously low.

And so the cloaked man began speaking. He spoke of the Reconstruction, as it was now being called, of the wizarding world, of the many mudbloods being welcomed into their world, of the respectful treatment the muggles were now being shown, of how all the surviving Death Eaters who could be found had been sent to Azkaban, of how Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Savior of the wizarding race, had refused an appointment as Minister of Magic and how hunted rogue wizards as an auror.

This last bit of information seemed to surprise the pale man the most. Again, he held up a hand to stop the other man's speech, making him stutter to a halt. "Harry Potter an auror, eh? Then he will be at the Ministry?" A quick nod of the smaller man's head. "Then that is where I will go." Carefully, he stepped out of the cauldron onto the dusty ground.

The cloaked man looked up in surprise. "If I may ask, for what, my lord? Are we to destroy the Potter boy?" he asked, voice full of glee. His excitement turned to confusion as the dark-haired man shook his head.

"No… no, I go to make penitence."

The other man blanched. "My- my lord! Penitence? For what?" He stiffened as glowing red eyes glared down at him.

"Did I give you permission to question me?" the pale man roared, making the cloaked man shake in fright. A cold smile stole across his face to be quickly replaced with a look of utter contempt. "You may believe my former goals to have been… noble, but I see that perhaps they were not so great as I once thought. So, I go to make penitence if I can. Then maybe I can rest in peace."

A look of pain crossed his face and he closed his eyes, apparently lost in thought, missing the look of repulsion that flashed through the other man's eyes. A second later it was gone and the dark-haired man reopened his eyes. "Now I would like to go to the Ministry," he said in a commanding tone.

The cloaked man gave a forced looking smile. "Of course, my lord," he replied, his voice overly polite, "but it is late and you must be tired. Would it not be better to sleep a night at the manor-" he gestured at a large house not far in the distance "-and go to the Ministry in the morning?"

The dark-haired man looked down at the other, considering. Several minutes passed and the shorter man began to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Perhaps you are correct," he finally intoned, making the cloaked man sigh in relief. "Take me to the manor." With a bow, the cloaked man led the way out of the graveyard.

Later that night, when all was dark and silent, a single owl appeared from the window of the manor, winging out to the horizon with a letter of rolled parchment grasped in its talons.

_The Dark Lord has risen again._

_Tomorrow he comes to the Ministry._

_Beware!_

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**A/N:** What'd you think? Continue, yay or nay? Like I said, I really enjoyed writing it, but don't expect updates too frequently… I'm lazy like that XD But reviews really encourage me, so REVIEW!! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** If I owned it, then this would probably take the place of that worthless epilogue in Deathly Hollows XD

**Warning:** Nothing much for now… minor violence. Sorry, I suck at action scenes…

**A/N:** Finished this several days ago but didn't have a chance to type it up till now. Um um… I actually don't think I have anything to say about this… So just enjoy!! :D

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Harry felt as if the world as he knew it was collapsing around him. For three years he had lived without the fear of Voldemort that had plagued him since he came into the magical world. He had lived in peace, enjoying life. And now, that was at an end.

A message had come to the Ministry in the wee hours of the morning claiming that the Dark Lord had returned. The Ministry had dissolved into total chaos. No one really knew what to do or who to turn to. The only thing everyone seemed to be certain of was that once again, Harry Potter would save the world.

Harry himself was not so certain. Three years before, he had watched his friends and many others die and mourned for them. He had come out stronger for it, but the experience was not one he wished to repeat.

But if he did nothing many more people would certainly die. And that was something he definitely didn't want weighing on his conscience. So it seemed the only hope for the survival of the wizarding community and the world at large was for Harry to defeat Voldemort one way or another. And that could lead again to his death, possibly for good this time.

Oh how he hoped this was all some cruel joke. But he knew in his gut that it wasn't, that He was really back. And although he had had three years to recover, to get stronger, Harry felt weaker than he ever had in his life. The only thing to do now was to prepare for this final showdown.

The Ministry had already been evacuated of everyone but Harry and a few of the aurors. The aurors had been hidden around the lobby in hopes of surprising Voldemort when he appeared. Harry had been asked- more like ordered- to remain farther back as the last defense.

And so Harry hid, awaiting the Dark Lord. He did not have to wait long. In less than half an hour, Lord Voldemort appeared in the center of the lobby, a smaller, cloaked figure by his side

Harry was surprised to see that the Dark Lord did not look much older than the Tom Riddle that appeared from the diary in second year. This one looked perhaps twenty-five and very handsome, in a cold, distant way.

"I want to speak to the Minister," a cold voice called, though much less cruel and threatening than Harry could remember hearing it before.

As soon as the words were spoken, the aurors leapt from their hiding places, immediately sending spells at the two men. With only a second's hesitation, the taller of the two sent up a protective barrier. The spells bounced off the barrier and back to the aurors, who scattered to avoid them. One was too slow, letting out a pained cry as he fell, then lay still.

As the aurors collected themselves for a new attack, Voldemort turned to the man next to him who stepped back, cowering. "What have you done?" he roared, his anger seeming to make him tower even more over the other.

The aurors paused for a moment, confused, but continued their attack, hoping to catch the Dark Lord while his back was turned. Instead, Voldemort merely waved a hand, turning all the spells back on their casters. A few missed as the aurors jumped from their paths, but many more hit their marks. There were screams of pain from all around and a few aurors crashed into walls, floor, or ceiling with horrific thuds.

Voldemort glanced at the remaining aurors then back at the man who lay prostrate before him. "I will deal with you later," he hissed. A flash of red light and the man on the ground lay still.

A few of the aurors gasped, shocked that even the Dark Lord would harm his seemingly only remaining follower. Amused, Voldemort laughed coldly, jolting the aurors back into action. As one, they attacked.

For several minutes the air was filled with a thick, black smoke, the cries of people in pain, and various crashes and bangs. Flashes of light pierced the smoke as aurors shot indiscriminately, desperate to hit the Dark Lord.

Eventually, the smoke cleared, leaving only one man standing in the center of the floor. Around Voldemort lay the aurors, the best of the best. None moved and Harry was unsure if they were dead or alive.

At last, Harry realized it was time for him, Savior of the wizarding world, to take his last stand and decide the fate of both wizards and muggles. Taking a deep breathe, he stepped out of hiding and into the light.

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**A/N:** I meant for this to be longer at first… but this is where it wanted to stop… I merely obeyed XD I think I told someone that this chapter would have the confrontation between Harry and Tom but I decided that needed to wait till next chapter… sorry XD And I've started chapter three so I hope it won't take too long to update. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and REVIEW!! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** My name is still not J.K. Rowling, if that helps.

**Warning:** Harry having a hissy fit…

**A/N:** OMG is this a new chapter?? XD Yes, indeed it is. I had some of this chapter written already from way back in June (yea, it's been that long, sorry!!) and had a sudden burst of writing inspiration yesterday. I even typed it up for you!! Hehe Yes, I know I'm a horrible updater, but at least here's a new chapter. And we finally get to my favorite part, Harry's hissy fit and Voldie's breakdown!! Enjoy!! :D

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Harry was cruelly amused to see Voldemort flinch slightly as he stepped into view. His good humor, however, immediately faded as he again noticed the many bodies on the ground.

The Dark Lord opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "I will not let you regain power," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. "I _will_ defeat you again." He was surprised when instead of the condescending laugh he had expected, Voldemort bowed his head slightly, though not taking his eyes of him.

"I have no intention of rising to power again," the Dark Lord said quietly, no trace of sarcasm or threat in his voice.

Harry started, greatly taken aback. How could Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord ever, be resurrected and _not_ want to return to power? This had to be some sort of trick to put him off guard, he decided.

"Of course you don't, my lord," he retorted, sneering. "Because after a few decades of terror, death, and destruction all you're going to want to do when you're resurrected is settle down with a family in a cottage by the sea." The last part came out in a hiss, Harry's entire body seething with barely controlled rage.

Voldemort blinked as magic swirled about the lobby, whipping around both their robes. He found himself grudgingly impressed as the level of magic rose, seeming to press in on him from all sides.

He struggled for something to say that would placate the enraged man, he wasn't sure if he could win in a head on fight in his currently weakened state. His pride would not allow him to beg, so there was really only one thing he could do. He only hoped the boy- no, young man- who had killed him once before would not act rashly and do so again. He did not want to die before making right with the world.

"Potter," he began as calmly as he could, "I'm going to put my wand down and my hands up. I'm not going to hurt you or anyone else. I just want to talk."

Slowly, so as not to startle the other man, he lay his wand down, kicking it a little ways away. As he straightened, he put his hands up, fingers spread. "See? No danger. Can we talk now?" he asked, looking closely for any sign that _he_ was in danger.

Harry was breathing hard, his anger slowly fading, and with it the swirling magic. He suddenly felt tired, as if he had just run a marathon. Sighing slightly, he struggled to compose himself. I wouldn't do to look weak in front of Voldemort.

Opening his eyes, calm once more, he saw the other man looking at him with a strange mix of pity and more than a little sadness. He shook his head, that was _not_ possible. Glancing back up, he saw only a look of calm indifference. "Alright, Voldemort, talk," he ordered, wand still trained on the much older man.

Voldemort smiled slightly to himself. The boy was just as he remembered. "As you've no doubt noticed, I've been revived once again. One of my more cowardly and secretive followers- "he nodded to a black robbed body lying a few feet away- "took it upon himself to bring me back and somehow succeeded. I, however, am not the same man I used to be. I have seen the error of my old ways and want to make amends."

Harry's anger had grown with every word from the older man's mouth. How dare he? How dare he come here and act as if he could make up for what he'd done? How dare he think that anyone would be naïve enough to believe he'd changed?

The Dark Lord shivered slightly as air and magic again began to spin around the fuming youth. "Potter…" he began, unsure of what he could do or say to pacify the green-eyed man.

"How dare you?" Harry suddenly screamed, darts of pure magic shooting in every direction. A small part of his brain winced as a bolt rushed past the older man's shoulder, tearing through cloth and flesh. He quickly pushed that part down, focusing all his energy on his anger. "How can you come and suddenly think everything can be alright?" he asked, quiet tone doing nothing to mask his fury.

Voldemort seemed about to say something but Harry cut him off, voice cold. "You've taken so much away from so many people. How can you even think you can make up for that?" he spat.

The red-eyed man flinched, realizing for the first time that he could never really make up for everything he had done. "I-"

"No!" Harry yelled, magic spinning faster than ever. "I don't care! Whatever you want to say doesn't matter! You can never be forgiven." His voice trailed off and he choked back a sob.

A list of the dead seemed to flash before his eyes. Mother. Father. Sirius, the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. Remus. Tonks. Dumbledore, both mentor and friend. The list seemed to stretch on and on, his sorrow growing with every remembered face. Even Hedwig, who had been the only one he could really rely on all those long, lonely summers at the Dursley's. "There are no second chances."

Harry's words struck a chord deep within Voldemort. He had watched the things he had done over and over, as well as the things that his followers had done in his name, and had time to think on them, but this was something altogether new. He'd never taken into account the pain he'd inflicted, the harsh emotions his actions had caused, the lives he'd ended.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping to his knees. Then, to Harry's great shock, he began to cry. Great, salty drops ran unabashed down the pale, proud face and Harry felt his anger and hate suddenly flee. To see the man who even now inspired fear in so many crying so openly and remorsefully left him at a loss. Slowly, he lowered his wand. The other man didn't seem to be in any condition to attack him at the moment.

The feared Dark Lord continued to cry, oblivious to the world around him, and Harry began to feel a little uncomfortable, perhaps even worried. Tentatively, he walked forward and reached out, to do what he didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to think about. "Er… Lord… Voldemort?" he asked, unsure.

The older man's head shot up, red and tear stained. "Please," he begged, "please don't call me that." His voice was so full of loss and distress that Harry couldn't help the pity that welled up in his chest. Harry was slightly afraid of what he felt, least of all because it was for his one greatest enemy. He nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Thank you," the Dark Lord whispered. He breathed deeply, steeling himself for what he still needed to do, only hoping it wouldn't cause another blow up in the younger man.

Carefully, he dried his face on the sleeve of his robe then looked straight into those pure green eyes. "Please," he said, voice slightly unsteady, "I just want to do what I can to make up for what I've done. I know it will never be enough, but I want to do all I can…"

Harry stared deeply into the glimmering red eyes, looking for any sign of deceit. Finding none, he stood, grimacing. "This would be easier if you were still trying to take over the world," he replied, wryly amused.

The older man nodded, sighing slightly as he stood. "Can you help me?" he asked, ready for the worst.

"I'll do what I can," Harry replied. He was rewarded by a small, unsure smile that lit up the other's face. A small part of his mind swore to make that happen more often.

Suddenly, the lobby rang with loud cracks, tell-tale signs of Apparation. The two found themselves at the center of a ring of Aurors, including the Minister himself. They seemed confused, understandable as the Boy-Who-Lived and former Dark Lord realized how close they were to one another and the absence of any sign of fighting.

Harry took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead wearily. He had a lot of explaining to do, it seemed. He could only hope he was doing the right thing.

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**A/N:** I believe that was longer than the last chapter, so I hope that made up for it being so long since it updated. So, what'd you think? I liked this chapter :D And just in case you think Voldie is too OOC, mentally he's kind of reverted back to when he was a teenager. He still has all his knowledge, and is just as cunning as he was back then, but he's also more emotional and less stable. That covers any concerns. Anyway, school's starting soon so I'll hopefully get more writing done. Don't hold your breath though XD

REVIEW please!! :D


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